


Down the Mountain

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:45:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: Jon didn't expect to find Sansa in the Eyrie, but when he does, he knows he has no choice but to get her out.





	Down the Mountain

“Stop, please!” Sansa’s nails were practically piercing the leather interior of his car as she held on for dear life. She didn’t dare glance over at the speedometer, but she didn’t have to to know that they were well above the speed limit. The winding mountain passes were dangerous enough going slow on a dry, clear afternoon, and tonight was dark and icy.

Jon ignored her panicked cries, or perhaps he hadn’t heard her at all. He was angry, that much was clear. Every muscle in his body was so tense they threatened to snap, his knuckles on the steering wheel were whiter than her own. His natural resting face was a scowl, but the expression he wore now was deeper than that. There was a vein in his forehead that wasn’t usually visible and his lips were pulled down at a harsh angle.

When he nearly missed a curve, only just preventing them from going off the cliff face with a sharp jerk of the wheel, Sansa screamed, “Pull over now! You’re going to get us killed!”

Maybe it was her scream, maybe the near-death experience, that finally snapped Jon out of it. There wasn’t a shoulder on the narrow pass, and the gradient of mountain on the side of the road was too steep for him to just pull over. Thankfully, though, the roads were deserted. No one in their right mind drove up into the mountains this late at night or this deep into winter so for Jon to stop short in the middle of the lane wasn’t any trouble.

“You scared the life out of me!” Sansa scolded, still unable to release her death grip on the door handle.

“Me? What about you? What the hell were you doing in the Eyrie?”

“You know my aunt Lysa lives there. And little Robert—” It was a weak lie. Sansa couldn’t even make herself believe it. Aunt Lysa was, to be polite about it, temperamental and she couldn’t think of a nice way to say that cousin Robert was a downright brat. There was only one person she was in the Vale for.

“Don’t bullshit me, Sansa.” His curse was harsh against her ears, but she’d long since learned not to flinch. “Joffrey drops dead and you disappear off the face of the earth and everyone thinks you did it and you really expect me to think you’ve just been visiting relatives this whole time?”

Sansa didn’t know what to say. What was it Petyr was always telling her?  _It’s not a lie if you believe it_. She closed her eyes as she tried to wrap her mind around her next lie, tried to plant the seed deep enough for it to take root, for it to grow into the truth. She’d been getting good at lying, almost as good as Petyr himself, but then stupid Jon Snow shows up, looking so much like Father with his honest eyes, and suddenly she can’t tell a lie to save her life. And that’s not even being hyperbolic, her life literally depended on her ability to make Sansa Stark disappear entirely.

“Are you going to tell me why you ruined your hair and let that man call you ‘daughter’?” Jon asked when the silence went on too long. “Baelish is dangerous, Sansa. I don’t think you really grasp the scope of what he—”

“I know him better than you do,” Sansa snapped back. She didn’t need Jon to lecture her about things she already knew, thank you very much. As if she could’ve lived with him all these months without learning just how dangerous and cruel Littlefinger could be. But he was intelligent, too, and he had a certain… fondness for her. Petyr wouldn’t hurt her. At least, she didn’t think he would. “I know what he’s capable of, I’m not naïve. But I need someone dangerous. He’s the only one who could keep me safe.”

“Safe from what? What could be worse than him?”

“Cersei Lannister thinks I killed her favorite son. Even if by some miracle I escape the death penalty, she’ll never let me go. If I’m lucky, she’ll only have me killed.”

“So what was your plan, live the rest of your life as, what was the name again? Alayne Stone? Pretend to belong to another family, just forget that you were ever a Stark?”

“At least I’d still be alive.”

“Sansa Stark would still be dead.”

“I  _am_  Sansa Stark!”

“You can’t be both Sansa and Alayne. It doesn’t work that way.”

“And how would you know?”

Jon didn’t answer, but the look he gave her spoke volumes. She hadn’t given Jon much thought since they separated years ago. Life at the Wall, she assumed, was routine. Predictable. Safe. Every now and then, a ranger went missing, but on the whole the Night’s Watch was a stable environment. But those eyes, she didn’t notice it before, but now that she looked, it was obvious that he’d suffered too. Not in the same way she has, but maybe they had more in common than she thought.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. What choice do I have but to trust Petyr?”

“You could trust me.”

“I can’t put you through that. Do you even know how much trouble you could get in to, harboring a fugitive from justice? The risk is too high. Just drive me back, and forget you ever saw me.”

His fingers twitched around the gearshift and for a moment, Sansa thought she won. If they hurried, perhaps she could sneak back into the mansion before Petyr found out she left at all. He’d be angry if he knew, but really, what did he expect, allowing Jon Snow into their home? She might be Alayne now, but she still had all of Sansa’s memories.

But he didn’t budge and the car remained idle in the middle of the road. Apparently, he wasn’t done with her yet. “Why are you willing to spend the rest of your life as punishment for a crime you didn’t commit?”

Oh, her pure-hearted, noble, ignorant cousin. Didn’t he realize that the woman she was now is nothing like the girl she’d been? Capable of things beyond his imagining. “…Jon, I did do it. I killed Joffrey.” It was the first time she said the words out loud since arriving in the Vale, when Petyr told her the significance of the pendant she wore. The same night Petyr promised to protect her against Cersei, the night Alayne was born. “I brought the poison to the wedding, it was in the stones of my necklace. It’s my fault Joffrey’s dead.”

All he said in response was, “Right.” When he shifted gears, she thought surely he was about to drive her back, finally convinced that she wasn’t worth all the trouble, but the car lurched forward and they continued their weaving path down the mountain. It wasn’t until they passed the turn off sign for the Bloody Gate did Sansa accept the fact that Jon wasn’t just looking for a safe place to turn around.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet.” He rested his hand on the console between them, palm up in invitation. Sansa placed her hand in his, fingers lacing together naturally, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever happens, we’re going to figure this out together.”


End file.
